


The Rituals of Courtship

by justbreathe80



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-15
Updated: 2009-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbreathe80/pseuds/justbreathe80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then, with a click of the seatbelt buckle, Fraser was gone. Ray sat there, his heart almost pounding, until the heavy door shut behind Fraser's bright red back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rituals of Courtship

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to my darling brooklinegirl, for being my quick and dirty beta. I heart you! And you are a patient woman for putting up with me always making the same damn mistakes. *loves*

The first time it happened, it was random. Ray hadn't ever really thought about it (well, okay, he'd _thought_ about it, but not for real, not like this), but they were on a stakeout and Ray had leaned across the passenger seat and Fraser to grab some gum out of the glove box. When he started to pull back, he turned his head, and he was practically nose-to-nose with Fraser.

Ray paused for a minute, because he could swear that Fraser took in a deep, sharp breath, and he was about to pull away when Fraser's hand came up to rest on his cheek, to trace the line of his jaw down to his neck and make him shiver.

"Fraser," he whispered, afraid to be too loud and make Fraser freak out. But Fraser didn't freak out, even though Ray was starting to feel like _he_ might. Instead, he used his hand, now clasped at the back of Ray's neck, to pull him close and kiss him. Fraser's lips were soft and warm, and Ray did a spectacularly half-assed job of stifling the embarrassing moan that came out of his throat when Fraser's tongue licked into his mouth. Fraser held him close, and Ray's head was swimming with how unbelievably good it was. He felt high, almost, and almost fell apart, on the floor of the GTO, when Fraser released his neck and pulled away from his mouth.

Ray moved over and slumped back against the seat, breathing heavy, and at a total loss for what to say, if anything. Because that was everything he wanted in the world, and everything he was terrified of all in the same simple press of Fraser's lips against his. He knew Fraser was hot, in that almost annoying way, but had filed that away in the part of his brain labeled "look, but under no circumstances should you touch," and had never meant to cross that line. Ray was pretty sure he never would have.

Blew his mind that _Fraser_ was the first one to take the plunge. Shit.

Ray stared out of the front window for a few minutes, at the dark outlines of the building, the one lit window among the many that blended in with the building itself, partially because he shouldn't have looked away from the damn building for a second, and partially because there was no fucking way he could look at Fraser right now.

They sat there in silence, and Fraser was looking straight ahead too, when Ray could sneak glances out of the corner of his eye that he was sure Fraser saw anyway. Fraser's fingers were resting on his lips, but his gaze didn't waver from the door of the building and the possibility of Wagner finally, after _days_, showing the hell up.

Finally, after what felt like a ridiculous amount of hours, with Fraser sitting still like that and Ray slowly losing his goddamned mind in the driver's seat, there was a knock on his window. It scared the shit out of him, and, after he'd gotten his hand on his gun, he turned and realized that it was just Dewey, who was laughing his ass off. The asshole.

Fraser murmured a good night and thank you to Huey and Dewey, and then Ray was driving the four a.m. streets back to the Consulate, the streets as quiet as the inside of the car, because Fraser, who never fucking _shut up_ most of the time, wouldn't say a damn thing. Ray was relieved, as much as anything, when he pulled the GTO smoothly in front of the Consulate building, leaving the car running.

Ray took a deep breath and turned to Fraser, who was also shifting in his seat to face Ray. "Listen, Frase, I'm -"

Then, just like before, Fraser's hand was on Ray's face, and he couldn't choke out another word if he wanted to. "It's fine, Ray, really. Good night."

And then, with a click of the seatbelt buckle, Fraser was gone. Ray sat there, his heart almost pounding, until the heavy door shut behind Fraser's bright red back.

*****

The next time, they'd been working for two days straight, case after case, until Welsh finally opened the door to his office at 4 p.m. and called into the bullpen, "Hey, Fraser, Vecchio, get the hell out of here and don't come back until tomorrow, will you?"

Neither of them was stupid enough to protest. Ray grabbed his coat off of the back of his chair, and Fraser followed him out into the cool September afternoon.

It had been three weeks since what Ray had been calling, in his head, "the stakeout incident," and things had been - well, a little weird, honestly, but okay. Ray found himself staring at Fraser's mouth constantly, and trying to figure out a way to ask Fraser if he'd like to give it another try, but Fraser started this, and Fraser was going to have to say something if he wanted to keep it going.

They were about twenty feet from the car when Fraser cleared his throat and said, "Ray, would you like to go to dinner?"

And seeing that Ray couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything, and his stomach was growling, and they ate out together more nights than not, he said, "Sure thing."

It was after he’d accepted that he remembered exactly why things were weird, but it was too late at that point.

He drove Fraser to their favorite little Thai place, about ten blocks from the precinct, and Ray ordered pad thai and tom kar gai, and Fraser ordered something that Ray couldn't pronounce, that came to the table sizzling and smelling like heaven, and Fraser smiled at Ray and spooned some of the beef and peppers onto the side of Ray's plate.

He couldn't really remember exactly what they talked about. Maybe their last couple of cases, or a new visa processing procedure that had just happened at the Consulate, or the fact that Dief had been Consulate-bound for the past two days because he was, well, _horny_. Though Fraser found a way to say that that made it sound like it had _nothing_ to do with sex. Regardless, Ray paid the check and they drifted back toward the car in silence, just like the night after "the stakeout incident," and the whole ride was like that. It was almost like deja vu. When the car stopped, Fraser turned, smiling, and said, "I had a lovely time, Ray. Thank you."

Huh? It was just dinner, like any other night they had dinner. "Okay, sure. Me too. Pick you up in the morning?"

"Certainly," Fraser said softly, and Ray realized too late that Fraser was leaning across the seat, until Fraser's lips were on his again, and all of the memories came flooding back, and Ray wrapped his arms around Fraser's back and held on, tight.

They stayed like that for a while, the windows fogging up, and it was only twilight, but Fraser didn't seem to care if anyone saw them, making out in Ray's goddamn car outside of the goddamn Canadian Consulate on a Tuesday night, so Ray just went with it. Let his hands seek out the warmth of Fraser's skin and the strength beneath it through the serge and let his tongue seek out the taste of Fraser in his mouth. It was incredible, and Ray knew he shouldn't be surprised exactly, but he'd never been kissed like this. It was almost like a _claim_, the way Fraser held onto his head and stroked his tongue into Ray's mouth, and Ray was sort of embarrassed by how much he liked it.

Then, like it started, it was over, Fraser letting go and pulling back and tugging the tunic straight from where Ray's hands had done their damage. "Good night, Ray," Fraser said, and slipped out of the car. Again.

This time, Ray pushed his hand, hard, against his erection pressing up against the zipper of his jeans, before he dropped his forehead against the steering wheel and groaned.

*****

There were more times, every week or so, while the days were filled with the same thing they had been filled with for the past year: solving cases and almost dying and Ray trying to keep Fraser from licking too many things. Fraser came to the precinct one afternoon, smiling that sly smile and putting two tickets (Oilers at Blackhawks) on Ray's desk. That night, after the game, with the car at least pulled into the Consulate alley this time, Ray worked his hand under the tunic and managed to get Fraser's Henley untucked and his fingers on the soft skin on Fraser's belly, all with Fraser's mouth on his, Fraser's soft little moans in Ray's mouth. He was about to work on Fraser's pants when Fraser broke away roughly.

"Ray," Fraser said, gasping, grabbing Ray's hands and holding them away. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Jesus Christ," Ray said harshly, before he could help it, because Fraser was acting like some high school cocktease, and it was fucking _killing_ him. He spent every day trying to be normal, trying to not think about finally getting that uniform off of Fraser and get down to business. He was confused and frustrated and turned on, and Fraser was bailing. Again.

"Eight, okay?" Fraser said, turned toward the door, his hand on the handle.

Ray sighed as Fraser stepped out and turned back to get Ray's answer. "Yeah, okay, see you tomorrow."

He almost crashed about four times on the way home.

After that, it was more dinners and movies, and Fraser even convinced Ray to go to the Art Institute. He hadn't been there since high school, with Stella's small hand in his, dragging him from the Impressionists to the modern art, and it was actually pretty cool, and Fraser knew _a lot_ about art.

Each night, outside of the Consulate, Fraser said good night with his hands and his tongue, letting Ray get a little further, but not a whole hell of a lot.

About a month after "the stakeout incident," Ray woke up in the middle of the night, sitting straight up in bed, with the realization that, well, _holy shit_, he was dating Fraser, and Fraser apparently didn't put out on the first date. Or the second. Or the third, fourth, or fifth, for that matter.

Ray? Usually put out without dinner, even.

See, the thing was, Ray was cool with fucking guys. He'd done his fair share of slightly awkward, backseat or alley encounters in the years since Stella left him, and it was good. Great. A revelation, after twenty years of being married, but he didn't even realize guys did this kind of stuff. The movies and dinner and making out in the front seat dating. Of course, this was Fraser, who was gorgeous and funny and smart as hell, but nowhere _near_ normal on a good day.

It could be that Fraser was freaked the fuck out, and that he'd never done this before, and Ray was pushing, too hard, and that's why Fraser booked it out of the GTO like a teenage girl every time Ray got close to his cock. It would explain a lot of things. Even though it was driving him nuts and sending him straight for his bedroom every night, with images and memories of how Fraser looked and felt and tasted behind his eyes and on his fingers, jerking off until he came, panting and gasping up at his ceiling, he'd move at Fraser's pace.

Ray was a good guy like that.

*****

Fraser had asked Ray to the opera that night, and even though Ray would rather stab out his eye, this was what you _did_ when you liked someone and kind of wanted to get in their pants, eventually. So, Ray put on his best suit and tried to keep from gaping as Fraser walked out of the Consulate in a _tux_ (and Ray remembered the last time he'd worn that). Fraser looked incredible.

And the opera? Wasn't so bad. Bizet's _Carmen_, which Ray thought didn't sound like any Italian he'd ever heard, and he was at least temporarily Italian over here, until Fraser leaned over and whispered that Bizet was a prominent composer in the French operatic tradition. Either way, there were subtitles above the stage, and the music was good, and somewhere during the second act, during the song about bullfighters, Fraser's hand came to rest on Ray's knee, and stayed there for the rest of the performance.

Despite enjoying himself, Ray was itching to get out of the hall and the suit, and he'd been balling his hands up in fists all night to keep from touching Fraser, roughing him up a bit, looking all perfect and beautiful in his tux.

When they got to the car, Ray pulled out of the parking lot and started to head toward the Consulate, but Fraser put his hand on Ray's, on the gear shift, and said, "Pull over.”

“Here?” Ray asked, then mentally kicked himself, because if Fraser said pull over, that meant Fraser wanted to make out and maybe fool around, and Ray was totally up for that. So he did.

When he threw the break in the dark of the alley a couple of blocks from the theater, Fraser was on him before he could even turn the car off, and Ray was down with this, he _loved_ this, Fraser hot and hard and wanting, moaning and kissing Ray everywhere he could reach. Ray wanted to undo his tie and rip the buttons off of his shirt, but this? He could handle this, even if it meant going home and jerking off to this in twenty minutes.

Fraser pulled away, staying close, and Ray fumbled to turn the car back on. “Okay, let’s get you back to Canada before you turn into a pumpkin.” His hands were shaking, and all of the blood that should have been in his brain was in his dick, but he could do this.

“Wait,” Fraser said, his voice a little shaky too. “Let's go to your place instead."

Ray hesitated, then said, "You got it.” Maybe six was the magic number. Ray had never wanted to be home faster in his life.

It felt like years before they got inside of Ray's apartment, and his hands were unsteady with anticipation, because he'd only been imagining this moment, this precise one, since "the stakeout incident," or, if he was being more honest, since about day five of their partnership, when it hit him, like a fucking _brick_, that Fraser was hot as hell.

Fraser was draping his jacket over the back of one of the barstools in the kitchen and loosening his tie, and Ray did the same. It felt like he could breathe again, and Fraser sighed too. "I find these," Fraser said, gesturing at his outfit, "to be quite insufferable." He flopped down on the couch and closed his eyes. Wow, and that was coming from a guy that wore wool almost every single day, even in the dead of summer.

Ray stood there for a minute, just watching Fraser, before easing down on the couch beside him while unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. "I hear you, buddy." Ray closed his eyes too, and took some deep breaths, trying not to think so damn much about what could happen and how much he _wanted_ it to happen. When he blinked open his eyes, Fraser was leaning over him, his face mere inches from Ray's. Again. Just like in the car.

"Hi," Fraser said, almost a whisper.

"Hi yourself," Ray said. He extended one hand to rest at Fraser's waist, and he could feel his _heat_ in a way he never could through the serge, the layers that Fraser covered himself with on most days. Fraser didn't seem freaked, but Ray was worried, and he didn't want to do anything Fraser wasn't sure about. He wanted Fraser on board, even if this was a whole new world of queer for him. "Listen, Frase -"

"I don't really want to talk, Ray," Fraser said, leaning in and breathing in deeply against Ray's neck, which felt really fucking good. Fuck.

"Yeah, well, all we've been doing lately is a whole lot of _not_ talking, and I - I want you to be sure that this is what you want." Fraser was mouthing at the skin below his ear now, and Ray was trying not to squirm back against the cushions. His dick was hard - harder than it had been all night - and he wanted to fuck Fraser yesterday, but this was important.

Fraser moved his mouth up to Ray's ear. "I assure you, Ray, this is exactly what I want."

"Because, you know, we can wait, I'm fine with the waiting, no rush over here,” and god, he was so full of shit. “I just - I don't want to fuck this up. Or go too fast."

Fraser's fingers were sliding beneath the waistband of Ray's pants and gently untucking his shirt. "You want to wait?" Fraser said, pulling back enough to look into Ray's eyes.

Jesus. "God, no," Ray said, as Fraser's hand trailed down the front of his pants. Fraser didn't seem freaked. In fact, the Fraser of the last few weeks, the almost prudish Fraser of the front seat of the GTO, seemed to be long gone, and in his place was this Fraser who seemed to know _exactly_ what he wanted. Even if he didn’t know exactly what he was _doing_. Ray didn't know which end was up, but he did know that Fraser was straddling his thighs, and his hand felt amazingly good on Ray's cock, through his clothes, and he didn't want to stop doing this. Ever.

"Well, then, might I suggest that we stop talking then?"

"Sounds good," Ray gasped, and Fraser braced his hands on the couch, on either side of Ray's hips, and slid down to his knees on the floor, his palms coming down hot on Ray's thighs. Fraser was grinning, and Ray almost laughed, because this was nowhere he'd ever thought he'd be with Fraser, and yet here they were. He had a smoking hot Mountie on his knees in front of him, and he was pretty sure he was the luckiest guy in the world. And sure, it might be the worst blowjob he'd ever had, because Fraser probably had no clue what on earth he was doing, but it would be Fraser, and that was enough.

Then Fraser leaned forward, and undid the button and dragged down the zipper of Ray's pants. With his _teeth_. Christ. Maybe not the worst blowjob.

Fraser reached in and pulled Ray's cock out of his boxers, and Ray groaned and bucked up his hips. Fraser looked up at him one last time, before ducking his head down and destroying Ray's entire, stupid, tiny little world.

Because Fraser? Fraser was no amateur. Fraser knew what the hell he was doing, and had clearly done this before, enough to be able to swallow Ray's cock down his throat with no lead up, just one smooth slide, and Ray had to thread his fingers in Fraser's thick hair and hold on, or he was going to come apart. Fraser sucked him, swallowing him down, working his throat around the head of Ray's dick, and then pulling his mouth off, letting his tongue drag against the underside and up over the head, over and over again, until Ray was almost _crying_ with it. Fraser was merciless, and let his teeth brush against Ray's shaft when Ray gripped his hair too tight, feeling some strands break off between his fingers, and Ray wasn't sure what to do with how this felt, how Fraser played him, pitch-perfect, until he was sobbing and moaning and coming down Fraser's throat, before going limp against the cushions of the couch.

Fraser pulled off and rested his head against Ray's thigh, and Ray could feel Fraser's breath against his sensitive cock, and he tugged Fraser up by the shoulders and kissed him, tasting himself and Fraser as he pressed Fraser back down onto the couch.

"So," Ray said, pushing himself up on his hands. "You done with me?"

"I don't even think we've really started yet, Ray."

Fuck.

*****

Fraser was nothing if not a man true to his word, and he had Ray up and in the bedroom before Ray could even blink, and he wasn't sure where his clothes went, but Fraser had gotten Ray's and his own off really fucking fast (must have been all that practice with the uniform). Then Fraser spread Ray out on the bed, his head pillowed on his folded arms and his knees up underneath him, while Fraser opened him up, slowly and expertly, and with a patience that took Ray's breath away. Because maybe he had been with guys, sure, but he could still count on one hand the number of guys he'd done _this_ with, and yeah, he liked it, loved it actually, but it wasn't easy to let go like that.

First, it was Fraser's tongue, lapping gently against him, and then pushing inside, and fuck, that was amazing, that was so, so good, and he tried to stop wondering where the hell Fraser had picked up _that_ particular technique and just let himself feel Fraser's tongue in his ass. Then, Fraser was moving away, and there were two slick fingers pushing into him, and oh yeah, Ray was on board. Fraser found Ray's prostate in about eight seconds. Figured.

"Fraser," Ray gasped, trying to keep his knees from sliding out from under himself. "Please."

And Fraser, god bless him, was moving again, and Ray actually felt tears, hot and wet on his face, when Fraser slid inside him, slow and easy and perfect and steady. Ray cried, and came again, and Fraser fucked him through all of it, until he was coming too, shaking and hanging onto Ray's hips, hard enough to bruise, before he eased them both down.

Ray didn't remember much after that.

*****

Ray blinked open his eyes and closed them again, tightly, against the too-bright sun flooding the room. Fraser was spooned up behind him, his arms draped around Ray's waist, pinning him there. The whole night came flooding back, and Ray, despite coming at least twice the night before, he was getting hard again. He started to laugh.

"Ray?" Fraser said groggily, gently pushing Ray onto his back and leaning over him, blinking down. "You okay?"

"Yeah, Fraser. I'm good. Great." Ray smiled up at Fraser, still giggling. "I just never figured you as a sex expert, that's all."

He watched as Fraser flushed, his face and neck going red. "Well, there are a great number of things you don't know about me."

"I see that. Hopefully they'll all be as good as that one was. Christ, you almost killed me. Leaving me hanging after every date like that."

"Sorry, Ray," Fraser said, rolling away, and Ray sighed and leaned over Fraser.

"You got nothing to be sorry about. It was fine. It was good. I was just worried you were freaking out about the gay thing. Clearly, I was dead wrong."

Fraser looked up, and then smiled, slowly. "No, I wasn't freaking out. I just - well, I guess I'm a bit old-fashioned when it comes to relationships, and - I was enjoying the anticipation."

Yeah. The anticipation was great. He got that. And the payoff? Even better. "I get it, Fraser. Think this means we're going steady now?"

Fraser laughed out loud, and Ray straddled his waist. "I'd say so."

"Well, good, because I've got some tricks up my sleeve, too, that I'd like to try out this time." Fraser's hips came up off the bed at that, and Ray leaned down to kiss him on the lips. There was no rush, just Fraser, warm and happy and naked in his bed, and not leaving any time soon.

"I look forward to it, Ray." And Ray went to work to show Fraser that he, too, knew a few things about sex.


End file.
